


Charm

by sobachka



Series: Zoyalai Works [3]
Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: College AU, F/M, Modern AU, but i love them so, enjoy, this was only meant to be 1k, zoyalai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26542033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sobachka/pseuds/sobachka
Summary: modern college au, Nikolai and Zoya have a huge last semester project to work on, and Nikolai swears he can get it done by Thursday if Zoya accompanies him to his father's party.---Nikolai raised both brows at her. Because of course, he'd been complaining about his father's party for weeks- how the old man insisted Nikolai be there for the cameras, and how desperate Nikolai was not to go."I need a date," he said again, a little more urgently now, his hazel eyes boring into her."Take Tolya," Zoya replied, cocking a brow at him."I doubt my tux will fit him,""Buy him a dress.""Then what will I wear?"
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Series: Zoyalai Works [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789732
Comments: 5
Kudos: 55





	Charm

**Author's Note:**

> fair warning: I don't know anything about biochemistry

“I hate being rich.”

Perhaps if the statement had been voiced by anyone other than Lantsov- the same guy who purchased a yacht only to take it apart and try to ‘reinvent’ it’s engine- Zoya might have actually believed it.

Seeing as it was not, she only cocked a brow at him. They were in her apartment, supposedly completing their last semester’s joint project- two fields, one goal, and a decent sum of money as a reward for the winning pair. Of course, since they’d been paired about two months ago, Zoya had done most of the work. And Nikolai had spent his time pouting, complaining, or throwing himself onto her couch, and doing both.

In this case, it was the last option.

“But if you weren't, how would you ever find a date?” she said, shifting the notebook in her lap and jotting a few notes into the margins. 

“You don’t think my charm would sustain me?” he asked, and she glanced up from her perch on the carpeted floor long enough to cast him a glare.

“What charm?” she asked. In typical Lantsov fashion, he clutched a hand to his chest, feigning hurt, his hazel eyes wide in a mockery of shock.

“You wound me, Nazyalensky,” he said, and she could only roll her eyes in response, switching a blue pen for black to underline some of her notes. Nikolai may have no use for the reward, but Zoya already had plans for the money, and she intended to get it- with or without his aid.

“Your pride needs to take a hit every once in a while,” she replied without glancing up.

“Then thank the  _ Saints  _ for our weekly meetings,” he said drily. Zoya’s mind had already abandoned their little back and forth, leaping into a much more interesting world of chemical equations and furthering their current project, making her vision come true. 

She was somewhat aware of Nikolai sliding off the couch and leaving with a muttered excuse, but her sole focus was on her notes. There was a solution. There was a perfect way to merge both these worlds- it was the final step, the last piece of the puzzle and it was _ right there _ .

She couldn’t grasp the thought long enough to capture it. 

A headache was beginning in her left temple, growing with each second. She narrowed her eyes, the jumble of lined paper littered with pages and pages of her own thoughts and ideas blurring and reshaping before her.

Zoya let loose a frustrated breath, tearing off her reading glasses and pressing a hand to her pounding head. How long had she been at this? She glanced down at her phone, surprised to find it was already past midnight.

And they only had a week to complete this project.

“ _ Zoya _ ,” called Nikolai, dragging out the letters of her name the way her younger cousin often did when annoyed. She looked up to find him leaning against the wall, his blond hair tousled, and his light brows drawn together in confusion.

“Your fridge is completely empty,” he said, as though the statement might surprise her, or she might hop up in utter disbelief and rush to replace the missing items.

“I know,” she replied, stretching her legs out in front of her and leaning back on her hands. She couldn’t say much else- it’s not as though Nikolai would understand that once your friend, who had been paying for half the things in the apartment, had gotten an internship with a fashion studio and abandoned state in a blur of excited giggles and ginger hair, the bills had only doubled.

“Why is it that your fridge is empty?” he asked, seemingly troubled by this matter.  _ Because I had to cut down on groceries and electricity. Because my third job just flunked my salary. Because you might joke about being poor, but you will never understand what it’s like. _

“There’s coffee,” she said instead, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Nikolai’s frown deepened, and he crossed the room to where she was sitting, slumping down beside her and crossing his legs. With the crease between his brows, the purse of his lips, and the wide set of his bright hazel eyes, he looked more like a puppy in need of attention than an engineering student.

“Zoya, tell me you’ve had something other than coffee to sustain you since last week,” he said. Zoya snorted, crossing her legs to mimic his posture and mirroring his concerned expression.

“Nikolai, tell me you have better things to worry about, like our project,  _ for example _ ,” she emphasized the last statement, raising both brows at him.

His hazel eyes were watchful for a moment, flicking over her face as if to discern her thoughts. It was an oddly intimate look that made Zoya suddenly very aware of the time, their proximity, and the way his blond locks tumbled into his eyes.

And in a blink, the spell was broken, an easy smile coming to replace it instead, reminding Zoya that this idiot was still Nikolai  _ Lantsov,  _ not unlike one of the guys she often played around with who's concern lasted as long as it took for them to stumble into her bed.

"Well I  _ was _ just informed that my charm wouldn't get me a date to my father's party, so, yes I have quite a few things on my mind at the moment."

She rolled her eyes, more out of habit than anything else. Already, Nikolai was standing up, stretching as though he'd been hard at work for hours, his white polo shirt raising just enough to reveal a sliver of toned skin.

Deciding this was a very bad angle, Zoya stood as well.

Nikolai cast his gaze around the room as though searching for something he was missing, then clapped his hands together once and announced: "pizza!"

It took Zoya's tired mind a second to process what he'd said. Food sounded heavenly, but she still frowned.

"Nikolai it's past one, there isn't a single pizza place on campus that's open right now," she said.

"Did I never mention that I loved being rich?"

\---

It took a single phone call, and suddenly they had three willing takers. Nikolai had insisted they go for one just off campus, claiming the sauce there was excellent. It was late, and she was rather hungry, so Zoya agreed.

"We could have been here fifteen minutes ago," Zoya muttered, glaring at Nikolai as he slid the car into a parking space.

"I'm not certain they'd feed two corpses at this place, Nazyalensky- they've got standards." he punctuated the statement with a wink, climbing out of the car before she could snap at him for insulting her driving skills.

She settled for scowling at him as she got out as well, slamming the door shut, and then slamming it again because this was her car, her very old and rusted car whose doors did not close properly.

The cool night air was a welcome surprise, the barest whisper of cold nipping at her skin. She stepped onto the sidewalk, coming to stand beside Nikolai, who was watching the large sign advertising, _ 'Bataar's' _ in what might have once been bold lettering, but had long since faded to the barest hint of the words, red turning to brown at the hand of time.

"It says closed," she noted, because it did, and now that he'd promised her food, she was going to be very irritated if they were turned away at the door.

But Nikolai only flashed her a cocky grin in response, "not everyone's as lucky as us, General,"

She rolled her eyes at the nickname, the result of many the nights she'd told him off for not taking their project seriously. Or school. Or anything, really.

"Can it, Lantsov," she snapped as they began making their way to the pizza shop. 

Sure enough, a young woman with a short crop of black hair appeared behind the glass door, opening the door labeled closed to let them in. A small bell atop the door rang cheerfully in the darkness.

The woman gave Nikolai a sharp smile, an air of familiarity radiating off her as she punched his arm playfully.  _ Somewhat  _ playfully, since Nikolai still winced as though it pained him, though he greeted her with warmth.

Zoya liked the woman immediately.

"And who's the lovely lady?" she asked, eyeing Zoya with newfound interest, her amber eyes intense.

"She bites," Nikolai said matter-of-factly.

"Just how we like 'em," the woman responded with a wink, spinning on her heel and calling, "Tolya, can we get some pizzas?"

"You can't do this every time!" a deep, frustrated voice called back but the girl only shrugged, nodding at one of the few tables in the back.

"I've gotta run, but Tolya's got you guys covered- keep him on a leash, will you?"

It took Zoya a moment to realize the girl was talking to her, and by then she was off, the door swinging shut behind her, and Zoya was left alone with Nikolai in a small diner that smelled like a lot of things, though none of them were pizza.

"Her, I like," Zoya said finally. Nikolai grinned.

"Knew you would," he replied, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over one of the plastic chairs as he sat.

Zoya tried not to wonder what that meant. Had he considered bringing her by before? She shook her head. Pizza. Then sleep.

More of the former.

"At ease, General," came Nikolai's voice, intruding her thoughts. She looked back with some surprise, to see him watching her with that same concerned look in his eyes. 

She sighed, pulling back the seat across from him to sit and wincing as it scraped against the floor. She slumped into it, already feeling a wave of tiredness hit her.

"What are you thinking?" Nikolai asked. 

"That our damn project is doomed to fail," she muttered in response. 

"No, it won't. The design you laid out is clever. It'll work." 

He said it casually, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Zoya thought this might be the first time Nikolai had ever acknowledged their project, save a few messages, and some notes left on her desk. She blinked with surprise.

"Come now, I'm not all looks and no brain," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

She shook herself off, feeling the need to stump his pride down. She knew her design was good. That was never the issue.

"Clearly. And yet it won't translate properly into a real-life model, which is what we'll be tested on anyhow," she frowned, "if you'd looked over the notes I sent, you might be of some use."

Nikolai raised a brow, "take it out of the box."

"That's not the phrase, Nikolai, and it's not any help either." She snapped back, quickly tiring of this conversation. 

But Nikolai only leaned forward, his eyes growing more intense, "no, Zoya, I mean literally take it out of the box. Here, look-" he snatched a tissue with a human heart design printed on it, and retrieved a pencil from his pocket. Then he began to draw, "the design you have in mind- it's too limiting. You have a whole world of biochemical tech and you're confining it into this small machine. Too much air in a balloon- it's bound to pop."

Zoya frowned, leaning closer to see the quickly forming shape of- and she had to suppress an impressed gasp- her model.  _ He looked over the notes. _ Beside it, he began adjusting some parts. Where she'd designed a small, box-like machine that would contain all the necessary programming to achieve her goal- a drop of blood in, a world of test results out- Nikolai's new sketch was more detailed. It was, she realized,  _ multiple _ machines, all working together for one goal. 

The sketch was refined, despite its hurry, and he labeled a few parts as he spoke, animating his words with his hands excitedly. Zoya thought she'd never seen him like this- the embodiment of the word passion.

_ "I've given you one of the brightest minds to work with, Nazyalensky." _

_ "You've given me a spoiled child in need of care" _

She winced at her own words, said to her professor so long ago. Zoya wondered if she'd been wrong about Nikolai all along. 

"-and this wouldn't take nearly as long to build, either, less time and less work." He let the pencil drop with a light tap, his hazel eyes bright when they met hers.

"That's…" she trailed off.  _ Brilliant. _ But she wasn't so high on this euphoria that had built up in her mind not to take account of two rather obvious things: they were only two people working on it, and one of them was dreadfully broke. 

"Impossible." She finished. A boyish grin appeared on Nikolai’s face, so unlike the self-assured, cocky smile he usually wore, teeth on full display.

" _ Improbable _ ," he corrected, "and I can have it done by Thursday."

Now it felt like the world was spinning around her. Done by Thursday? She'd traded shifts with some co-workers and begged off work for additional hours that week solely to work on this project.

This felt right around the time that her aunt would narrow her eyes and say,  _ all good things come with a price. _

It was as if Nikolai had read her thoughts. He leaned back in his seat, slipping back into the comfortable look of a man who was never refused a request. Or rather, one who had never needed to make requests, and spoke the language of demands instead.

"Which would leave you free on Friday night, no?" he asked, raising a light brow. It was clear he already knew the answer and that made her even more annoyed.

"I'm sure I'll find a way to fill my time," she replied.

Before Nikolai could say anything else, a large man wearing a white apron appeared, carrying two heavenly scented pizzas, one in each hand.

Zoya snatched Nikolai's sketch from the table as the man set down the pizzas, pocketing it. The man turned his amber eyes on Zoya, and she instantly connected the fact that he and the girl were related-  _ Saints _ , they must be.

"Would you like me to recite any poetry as you eat?" he asked without preamble. Zoya blinked.

"What?" she asked, just as Nikolai said, "Tolya, I beg you not to"

The large man sighed, shaking his head with a deep sense of disappointment, "you're all unworthy," he said, and disappeared back into the kitchen he'd come out of.

Zoya frowned, "you keep interesting company," she noted. Nikolai chuckled.

"They keep me," he replied, though he did not elaborate.

He turned his eyes back on Zoya as though they'd never been interrupted, "come with me Friday,"

Zoya pretended not to understand, reaching instead for a slice of pizza, which burned her fingertips, the cheese clinging to the edges as she extracted it. She realized they'd never even ordered- they'd simply gotten pizza when they'd wanted it.

"Go with you where?" She asked innocently, taking a bite and instantly regretting it as the sauce burned her tongue. She swallowed against the heat, and found the taste was incredible. She had no idea what it was- something vegetarian but with a hint of citrus.

Nikolai raised both brows at her. Because of course, he'd been complaining about his father's party for weeks- how the old man insisted Nikolai be there for the cameras, and how desperate Nikolai was  _ not _ to go.

"I need a date," he said again, a little more urgently now, his hazel eyes boring into her.

"Take Tolya," Zoya replied, cocking a brow at him.

"I doubt my tux will fit him,"

"Buy him a dress."

"Then what will I wear?" 

Zoya rolled her eyes, snatching up a second slice with more fervor than she'd ever shown- she really hadn't been eating properly. Nikolai joined her, taking up a slice of his own, though the question still hung in the air.

"How fancy?" she asked, sighing.

"Imagine a party designed for the Saints themselves. Then aim higher." 

Zoya let out a surprised laugh. Lantsov really was  _ that _ rich. The sort of wealth that flooded into every corner and crevice of a person's life until they felt entitled to everything- including pizza in the middle of the night, from a closed restaurant.

She took another bite, contemplating it. 

"Done by Thursday?" she asked again, still unsure how that could be true. 

Nikolai grinned, "I can send David the blueprints tonight,"

She sighed. A party for those who think themselves higher than the Saints. A boy who thought himself higher than the world. 

In a few short words, her aunt would have used to describe the situation; an utter mess.

"You really are an idiot," she said finally, shaking her head, "Friday it is."

\---

Thursday went by in a rush of tv show binges and blasting all the music her roommate had hated, to spite the non-existent girl or satisfy herself, Zoya couldn't ascertain. But she enjoyed every second of it. 

Since she'd left her aunt's and moved into an apartment with her high school best friend, Genya Safin, Zoya had entered a more demanding world. Demanding of her as a student, a woman, and a person of color. 

Hours of freedom did not come by so easily, especially not in one's final semester before graduation.

_ "Go with the blue!" _ even through the phone's grainy camera, Genya's look of frustration pierced Zoya, and she glared right back.

"Gen you  _ always _ say go with the blue, but I look damn good in every other color as well," Zoya said.

It was nearly five, and Nikolai would come to pick her up at seven for the ridiculous party that should not cause any form of stress on her terms. Because they were only partners. Maybe friends. 

Maybe just people who went out to pizza places in the middle of the night then talked for hours after. 

She sighed, dropping the third dress onto what might have been her bed- everything was hidden under a layer of clothing, so one could not be certain.

"Why does this matter so much, anyway? I thought you hated this guy," Genya said from where Zoya had perched the phone on her desk, angled just enough to catch the knowing tilt of the girl's mouth.

"It doesn't, I just want to look nice," Zoya responded evasively. "Trust me he's been here on nights when I was in a tank top, no makeup, and hair pinned up with pens. I don't need to impress him."

"How long did he stay on those nights?" Genya asked, not bothering to hide her smirk.

"Genya I'm going to end the call now," Zoya threatened, turning away and ignoring the way her cheeks heated.

No, Zoya was  _ not _ getting worked up over this. Not Nikolai. Not some guy too rich for his own good.

"No, no, no, don't!" Genya cried, waving her hand emphatically. She waited for a beat, and when Zoya made no move to close the phone she said, more quietly, "I think the blue dress is very sexy."

Zoya rolled her eyes, "Genya, again, this has  _ nothing _ to do with him."

Genya hummed.

Zoya wore the blue dress.

\---

It was nearing the general time that Zoya bored of her dates, abandoned them, or made better plans. Nikolai had not called, and she refused to pick up her phone.

Especially when a single glance at the mirror told her she looked positively breathtaking. If Nikolai wanted to cancel, she would not let him have a taste of the look at all.

As if on cue, her phone lit up with a call from Nikolai, the word  _ 'idiot' _ , flashing on the screen. She smirked, letting it ring twice. Three times.

She picked up just before it ended the call.

"What?" she asked, sounding bored.

"Sick of me already, General? Well tonight will be a long one then," Nikolai said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

She could also hear machinery in the background. The sound of an electric saw buzzing through the speaker. She frowned.

"Nightly torture routine?" she asked.

"If you mean for the tree, then yes," he replied, "I'm afraid I got a little caught up in a promise I made a pretty girl- she may abandon me if I don't solve this issue within the hour."

"Smart girl," Zoya muttered in response, then added, before she could restrain herself, "what's the problem, exactly?"

He hesitated, "we tried to merge two parts to save space but it seems we've crossed wires that should never be touched. David may never recover from the shock it produced"

"Is he hurt?" she asked, perking up.

"Mentally or physically? The former is a longer story, much too traumatic to handle over a phone call"

Zoya rolled her eyes, shifting the phone under her ear. "You need an expert, I'll be there in ten."

She hung up before he could respond.

The ride should have been fifteen minutes really, but Zoya made it in eight. This and she'd stopped at one whole red light. She was growing soft.

The address Nikolai had sent her shortly after their phone call was to a garage, rather than his apartment, and when she arrived, it wasn't difficult to locate the one he was at.

After all, only one of the standard gray garage compartments had a deep blue convertible parked in front of it.

She quirked a brow.

The garage was halfway open, just large enough to get a glimpse inside, but small enough that she had to duck to enter.

The place looked like what she imagined the inside of Nikolai's mind was like: a mess of machine parts and blueprints, sketches taped to walls, and half-formed ideas lying around.

At its center, a very wiry man was welding a very large electronic saw. It looked like a single slip and the machine would slice through him instead of the wood. 

She shook her head, eyes landing instead on Nikolai, who had been scribbling on a piece of paper before he noticed her. His hazel eyes lit up at the sight of her, and he grinned. It was an oddly painted picture, she thought, him standing over a blueprint in a tux more expensive than anything she owned, hair perfectly parted, convertible outside.

And yet it was somehow also perfectly natural for Nikolai.

"You look stunning," he informed her when she approached him, a little annoyed that the clacking of her heels was drowned out by the saw- that was her favorite sound.

"I know," she responded, ignoring his impressed, lingering gaze and turning to the papers laid out before him.

"The problem?" She asked, looking them over. Nikolai let out a soft laugh, directing his attention back to the issue at hand as well.

"You see here-" he used a red marker to circle a small 3d model on the top left corner, "-it isn't holding its shape. The wiring sparks out, or the machinery collapses, something always goes wrong, but I can't merge it with any of the other parts, lest it mixes signals and explodes"

Zoya frowned, leaning over the papers and examining them more closely. This wasn't exactly her field- she had been studying medicine, but Zoya had taken a few bioengineering courses in the past, out of pure curiosity. 

"Don't merge it," she said simply, "place it within another compartment, doubling the energy transferring to it, but keeping it separate so the signals don't overlap."

Nikolai leaned over as well, drawing a line from one part to the other- bringing her half-formed idea to paper. He let out a light chuckle, part surprise, and part amusement. He was close enough that she could feel it against her cheek.

"Have I told you that you're a genius, yet?" he asked, brushing a strand of loose hair behind her ear, his touch grazing her skin and sending shivers down her body.

She straightened, stepping back from the table and ignoring the way her heart had picked up speed.  _ Get it together _ , she snapped at herself.

"Is that all that needs fixing? Or are there any other problems that need a stronger eye," she asked, glancing around boredly.

Nikolai grinned, the sort of grin that made her think he saw right through her fake boredom and her sharp eyes, down to the very thought beating through her body at that moment. The one that said Nikolai Lantsov was beginning to have an effect on her.

"None so far, although if you could tear David away from his work long enough to call his girlfriend, I would be immensely grateful. But seeing as that would take two storms and the very earth to shake underneath him- we'd best be on our way."

\---

If Zoya had thought that Nikolai’s penthouse apartment with its built in AI system that handled his arrangements was pretentious, she had not at all been prepared for tonight.

Mansion was an understatement. A castle-like building loomed proudly behind a link iron fence, as though it were a king and the circle of trees around its edge was his subjects. There was something distinctly Russian about the turquoise and gold lines that rose to outline the large glass windows, only adding to the shimmering quality of it- as though they’d trapped the stars themselves within those walls.

“Impressed yet?” asked Nikolai from beside her, and she had to roll her eyes, opening the door to climb out before he had the chance to do something ridiculous like open it for her. Before her heel had met the grassy floor, though, he caught her wrist, stopping her. 

Zoya looked back with some surprise, to find that Nikolai’s hazel eyes were a little more intent. He hesitated, a fete which had never come to play long as she’d known him. After a beat, he dropped her hand, his smile soft.

“You really do look beautiful,” he said quietly. Zoya blinked. She had been complimented by plenty of people before, on dozens of different occasions- she prided herself on the ability to look past the praise and see the motive.

With Nikolai, she couldn’t tell. She also couldn’t tell why her heart skipped a beat.

In order to avoid these thoughts, she glanced away, muttering a ‘thank you,’ and stepping out of the car. She let the door fall gently shut behind her, and heard the thump of Nikolai’s side closing as well. 

For a moment, she let herself take a deep breath, organize her thoughts. She was not on a date with an over-eager boy. She was completing her part of a deal, with a guy whose presence she would not need to endure within a week. Even if they won the competition, it would be nothing but a split prize between them.

Which was likely for the best.

“You grew up here?” she asked, more to have something to say than anything else as she joined Nikolai in walking towards the ridiculously large mansion, weaving between other pristine cars that cost more than she’d ever dream of making, grass turning to concrete beneath her struggling heels.

“Charming, isn’t it?” he said as they reached the open gates, revealing a large fountain with a sculpted family of foxes raised on their hind legs, mouths parted around a steady stream of clear water.

“Pretentious, more like,” she replied, eyeing the place with distrust. Nikolai only shrugged.

“This is likely the only reason my parents are together- neither is willing to part with this house,” he said it thoughtfully, as though acknowledging his parents’ loveless marriage was a normal fete. “Think something happy.”

“Why?” Zoya asked as they came to stand before a row of stairs leading inside.

“You’ll find it only gets more difficult once you’re inside,” he responded, turning his bright gaze on her, “my personal favorite is that no matter how dreadful everyone is, there’s an abundance of champagne to keep any murderous thoughts at bay.”

Zoya raised both brows, “let’s hope so,” she mumbled, already dreading the night ahead.

“You know what they say,” Nikolai said with a wink, “we hope or we falter.”

  
  


As soon as they stepped inside, Zoya knew she had made a big mistake. A large ballroom spread out before them, high chandeliers reflecting off the crowd of women in stylish dresses and men in sharp suits, fake laughter melded with music from a piano that was being played somewhere in the background. A grand staircase that split to two and spiraled up to a second floor sat it in the center, and Zoya could not help but be at least a little bit impressed.

“How much does it cost to heat this place?” she muttered, gaze roving over the marble floors and the crystal tables that littered the room casually.

Nikolai let out a soft chuckle, snatching two glasses from a faceless servant with ease, and offering one to her, his hazel eyes sparkling.

Zoya accepted it, still caught up in the grandiose of the place as Nikolai began leading them further inside, hand coming to rest on the small of her back. She sucked in a sharp breath, downing her drink in one go. 

“Wonderful way to start the night- oh  _ saints _ ,” the last part he said with a bitter undertone, though he wore a convincingly cheerful grin. Zoya followed his line of sight to find an extravagantly dressed couple- large man with pale blue eyes in a sharp tux and a woman with dye-blonde hair and a low cut red dress.

When the woman's hazel eyes fell on Zoya, narrowing slightly, she realized who these people were.

"Might be a good time to mention," Nikolai murmured beside her ear, "they think you're my girlfriend,"

Zoya blanched, turning her wide eyes on him, but Nikolai only shrugged apologetically. Before she could say a word- or smack him for that matter- the dreaded pair had appeared in front of them.

" _ Kolya _ , sweetheart, you're late again!" this from his mother, who was eyeing Zoya as she spoke, the fakest of pleasant smiles twisting her red lips.

"I lost track of time," Nikolai said, smiling politely, then he made a grand gesture with his hand indicating Zoya, "you haven't had the pleasure to meet Zoya just yet, so it was well worth the wait,"

"Oh, lovely- isn't she lovely, Alexander?" his mother cooed. Alexander was busy taking in Zoya's dress appreciatively, his icy blue eyes so unlike Nikolai's.

As if sensing her discomfort, Nikolai let a hand rest casually on her shoulder, pulling her closer, letting the scent of his cologne wash over her.

"The pleasure is mine," Zoya got out, hoping her voice did not sound strained. She had the fleeting thought that perhaps she may just hammer Nikolai's head in with the stupid project that brought them here.

"Whatever happened to that darling girl- what was her name? The one with the-" she indicated her eyes vaguely, "you know from  _ there _ ."

She felt Nikolai stiffen beside her, and wondered if it would be particularly rude to punch his mother in front of this crowd.

"Surely you remember sending flowers for Alina's wedding, mother," he said smoothly, steel lacing his words. 

"Pity," she said, as though it wasn't.

"Have you spoken to your brother, yet?" this from Mister Lantsov, who'd woken from the trance of seeing a female for the first time to cut Nikolai a glare. It did not seem particularly fatherly. Zoya spared a moment to try and remember what Nikolai had said about his parents, the few times he'd brought them up, but came up empty.

"Not quite, but I'll be sure to see him before I leave," he replied, a bit of tightness to his words. Zoya had not known he had a brother at all. It seemed to her the tension with his family was growing and growing with every second. She glanced over his father's shoulder, desperate for a way out.

The crowd of people offered nothing. Zoya turned her attention on Nikolai, instead.

"Nik," Zoya said, a name she'd never used for him before, letting her fingers brush his chest as she spoke- the surprised look on his face was worth the act, "show me where the bathrooms are, will you?"

He blinked, then a sly grin spread over his face and he excused them, steering her away from the dreadful pair that were his parents.

"A warning. A single  _ fucking _ warning, Lantsov!" she whispered furiously as he led her past the crowds into a quiet hall lined with doors.

"I didn't realize they would respond like that," he said. Zoya spun on him, narrowing her eyes.

"That's  _ not _ an apology," she snapped back. Already her mind was replaying the moment she'd agreed to come and apparently be humiliated by the idiots that had raised an idiot. Zoya concluded that she must have been dizzy with the lack of sleep..

Nikolai sighed, shoulders slumping. He ran a hand through his tidy hair, mussing it.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, shaking his head. "I just didn't want to face them alone"

It was a strangely vulnerable thing to say, and it caught Zoya completely off guard. She let her sharp gaze sweep over him, "then why didn't you bring a friend?"

A look of hurt flashed in his eyes, and he glanced at Zoya with something almost like disappointment, though not quite that. "You really don't see me as a friend?"

Zoya blinked. Tonight had been a bad idea from start to finish- not coming drunk had made for two bad decisions. Having this conversation, with her messy thoughts and complicated emotions was proving to be a much, much worse one.

She shook her head, pushing past him as the prospect of a bathroom where she would not have to deal with her current situation became almost impossible to resist.

"Zoya-" he started, but the thick wooden door had already closed behind her, and she could no longer hear his voice through it.

She leaned her head back against the closed door, an overwhelming sensation washing over her. Nikolai, an idiot, also the person she was forced to work with. Also the ridiculously rich guy who brought her here. 

Also the man who refused to leave her thoughts even when he wasn't around.  _ Damn him. _

She heard his hesitant footsteps retreat back down the hall.  _ Good _ , she decided, tamping down the rising sense of disappointment.

There was a red cushioned bench beside the doorway, and since it wasn't a normal bathroom, that led to a circlet of glass sinks and a narrow hall of stalls.  _ What the hell else was there to do with that much money _ , she thought distantly.

Zoya slumped onto the chair, slipping off her heels and retrieving her phone from the deep blue clutch she'd stolen from Genya before the girl had left.

At the memory, her heart welled up, and Zoya quickly dialed her friend. She found she could use the distraction.

\--

No one ever came into the bathroom during the hour or so that Zoya occupied the space, which was a relief. She had called Genya and asked the other girl to update her on everything. Everything that was not Zoya, the competition, or any Lantsov.

Genya had obliged, launching into a story about how she had fought one of the famous designers- whose name Zoya had forgotten within a minute, something distinctly French and difficult to pronounce- and wrestled a particularly ugly belt out of her hands, tossing it out the window of the thirtieth floor.

"Was anyone hurt?" Zoya had asked, barely suppressing her laughter.

"Only their eyes were harmed by that dreadful orange," Genya responded with a snort. "It's not even a color  _ David _ would wear, and he's got the most god awful taste of all!"

Zoya frowned at the name, then asked, "David from engineering?"

On the other end, Genya seemed to falter, "oh- um. Well, yes. I suppose you were bound to find out, since he and Nikolai are rather close."

"Genya! How could you keep this from me?" Zoya said, finding that the statement did leave a sharp sting. Her best friend, and she hadn't even known about this new interest. 

She recalled Nikolai mentioning a girlfriend of David's, and realized she had missed more than just an interest.

"You were so busy, and so caught up in school and your project… we hardly talk anymore," Genya said, making Zoya wince.

Zoya sighed, shaking her head. She couldn't even manage a friendship, let alone the entire mess that was her life.

"Sorry about that," she said at last, "I'll call you again tonight, alright? I think i should get back, anyway,"

"Okay," her voice was quiet on the other end for a moment before she added, "you know it wouldn't be horrible, Zoya, if you gave him a chance."

She said nothing, letting the call end with her silence.

Zoya slipped her feet back into the heels she'd been wearing, standing up and smoothing the wrinkles of her dress. There were some permanent lines around her waist, but she could do nothing about those.

Quietly, she let the door open, her ears instantly flooding with the sounds of chatter and the gentler play of what must have been a very tired pianist. She could just make out a figure in red weaving through the crowd, and Zoya's mood instantly soured. She really did not want to be there.

Instead, she turned opposite to the ballroom, down the narrow hall, her heels clacking gently on the marble floor. 

There was a glass door on the far end that seemed to lead outside, and she made a beeline for it, reasoning that maybe she could while away a few more hours before she found Nikolai to take her home.

She'd expected to find herself in a backyard of sorts, or perhaps even a lot full of more fancy parked cars, but Zoya was surprised to find herself standing in a garden. She sucked in a breath, taking in the view of rose bushes and vines weaved around extravagant arches. They made a pathway to a small pond lit from beneath the water.

"They're  _ all _ roses," said a voice. Zoya jumped, turning to find Nikolai leaning against the wall, a small smile appearing on his face. "My mother made sure of it. She hated every other type of flower, so she bought enough rose bushes to fill a garden. And then she did."

Zoya let out a soft laugh, trying to link the red clad woman with the person Nikolai was speaking of, and speaking so kindly of, too.

"I have to agree, they're stunning," she said.

"It's possible I spent more time here than in there," he said, nodding towards the door she'd exited from.

Inside, Zoya had found it nearly impossible to see Nikolai as one of them. Someone who had spent his childhood days racing up and down extravagant staircases, servants calling to him every morning. At least, not the Nikolai she'd come to know- not the one who was passionate and smart and had a dazzling smile when he'd figured something out.

She could see him here, though. Laying on the grass with a book in hand, tinkering with parts of a toy airplane and tracking mud inside when night fell and he had to leave. 

"What are you smiling about?" Nikolai's voice came from beside her- she hadn't even heard him approach- forcing Zoya back into the present. She cast him a sharp look.

"Nothing," she snapped, crossing her arms and glancing away. She kept her gaze resolutely on the garden.

Either Nikolai misunderstood the gesture or he was a total idiot, because he slipped out of the jacket of his tux, gently draping the material around her shoulders. She considered not accepting it, but she had to admit it was rather cold, and the jacket promised her warmth, carrying with it the smell of Nikolai's cologne. She tugged it closer around herself.

"Did I mention that you looked beautiful today?" he asked, close enough that his breath grazed her ear and sent shivers down her body.

Zoya let herself meet his eyes, bright embers in the darkness. Her heart picked up speed and wished she could to tamp down the erratic rhythm. This was  _ Nikolai _ , she reminded herself. 

But when he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, she didn't move away.

"Nikolai…" she said, her voice was barely a whisper. She wanted to lose herself in the moment, but she found she had to ask, "Why did you ask me to come?"

His eyes flicked over her face, brows drawing together. He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head, "I wasn't sure you'd agree if I asked you out."

Zoya blinked. Then, with a raised brow, she closed the space between them, leaving just a hairsbreadth between their lips, "are you asking now?"

He didn't reply. Instead, he bridged the final bit of space between their lips, capturing her mouth in a kiss. Zoya suppressed a gasp as his fingers caressed her face, one hand tugging her closer by the waist. She linked her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

This was not how tonight had meant to go at all.

Still, she let the feel of him and the scent of his cologne overwhelm her senses, parting her lips beneath his, kissing him back with as much fervor. 

When he pulled back it was like resurfacing from drowning. Neither moved for a moment. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest.

Nikolai's light eyes found hers, and he stroked the line of her jaw, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I'm asking."

Two months. Two months they'd worked together, staying up past the morning hours. She'd considered him an idiot for most of that time, but Zoya found her perception of Nikolai was slowly changing. Perhaps this wasn't a horrible idea after all. She made a mental note to tell Genya she'd been right.

"Well," Zoya said, finding that she didn't mind the turn of events so much. She leaned closer into his embrace, letting her words brush against his lips. "I'm agreeing."


End file.
